The Ghost and Mr Hummel
by SnarkItOut
Summary: When Kurt and his new family moved into their house, his room turned out to be a little more odd than he thought—now that's he's rooming with a ghost. Making friends with Dave Karofsky, the teenage spirit, isn't the hard part, it's figuring out how he died
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Ghost and Mr. Hummel  
By: SnarkItOut/SnarkyGirl101  
Rating: PG-13  
Length: 14k  
Genre: General, Supernatural, Romance  
Warning: Mild language, mention of suicide, innuendo  
Summary: When Kurt and his new family moved into their house, his room turned out to be a little more odd than he thought—now that's he's rooming with a ghost. Making friends with Dave Karofsky, the teenage spirit, isn't the hard part, it's figuring out how he died.

A/N: I got the idea for this through pink-mama and her love for _The Ghost and Mrs. Muir_. And heck, a 'haunting' romance is never something to pass up the chance at. ;]

* * *

To say that the Hummel-Hudson family started out with a smooth, easy transition would be a lie. There was the whole misguided crush, illness and fights that got in the way, but when the wedding happened, it felt like things were finally going right.

When they became one slightly crazy family, the first order of business was buying a bigger home. Finn cared little where it was, so long as there was a TV in his room to play his Xbox. Kurt was the one that involved himself with the purchase, vetoing many floor plans much to Carole and Burt's bemusement.

It was only after searching all of Lima that they found the perfect house, within the McKinley High district, far enough away from the puck heads, and with enough space to fit them all with room to spare. After a long weekend hauling their combined belongings across town, Kurt was finally settling into his room, all of his boxes stacked in neat columns, ready to be organized.

"This is the beginning of a beautiful symbiotic relationship," sighed Kurt happily. He patted the rack of clothes neatly put away after hours of hard work.

"Are you talking to your closet?" Kurt looked over to the door to see Finn's confused face. "'Cause that's kinda weird."

"Weird just like when you yell at your Xbox for no reason?" asked Kurt with an arched eyebrow.

"At least there's people online that will respond back—if your closet did, I'd be calling one of those exorgasmists."

"Exorcist, Finn," said Kurt, willing himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. "Exorcist."

"Whatever. Are you gonna come down? Burt and Mom ordered pizza—healthy pizza, just so you know," grumbled Finn.

"Either way, it's pizza, I didn't think you would even care," teased Kurt.

"You're right. So…." Finn looked around the room, and then looked to Kurt. "Are you coming or do you want to finish speaking to your socks?"

"I'll be down in a minute, I swear," said Kurt.

Finn rolled his eyes, not believing him. "Alright."

Kurt went back to the boxes that still needed to be unpacked when he was startled by a gust of wind. "Funny, I didn't open a window," he murmured.

Then another voice rang through the room saying, "that's because you didn't."

Kurt froze for a moment, and then quickly spun around to see a young man in a varsity jacket. Either he was hallucinating or some jock had snuck into his room to vandalize his clothes, a thought which worried him greatly. Or worse, someone who intended to hurt him. He tried debating how long it would take his dad or Finn to get up the stairs if he screamed versus the jock wrapping his hands around his neck.

Kurt edged slightly toward the door, trying to come up with an escape route. "Who are you?" Kurt asked. "How did you get in here?"

"Pft, I've been here way longer than you, Fancy," said the young man. "As for who I am? Dave Karofsky, ghost haunter extraordinaire."

Kurt stopped for a moment, forgetting the escape plan. "A ghost?" scoffed Kurt. He looked at Dave critically. He didn't look out of the ordinary, and he certainly wasn't floating. He looked like a solid athlete, a young guy in his prime with a head of short brown curls. Dave looked like flesh and bone to him, not at all like a spectre.

"Yeah, a spook, a spectral being, the thing that goes bump in the night. Take your pick," said Dave with a grin.

"Prove it."

Dave rolled his eyes, having fully expected this to happen. Dave walked up to Kurt and raised his hand in a motion that made Kurt flinch only to feel a gust of cold air on his face. He shivered lightly, and realized that Dave's hand went completely through his face and he only felt a slight temperature change, as if a fan had been turned on.

"Believe me now?" asked Dave.

"Um," started Kurt. "Yes, unless I've gone crazy."

"I'm not sure about that. I can't really vouch for you when I heard you conversing with a pair of suspenders." Dave grinned teasingly as Kurt gave him a grumpy look.

"I was not; that at least tells me you weren't here the whole time." Kurt felt the overwhelming desire to glare Dave to death- well, more than he was already. "Are you here all the time? Why are you here?"

"How 'bout we talk about that later, after you've had dinner with your family? Pretty sure they're waiting for you." Kurt looked at Dave fidget for a moment and sighed.

This was all a little weird, thought Kurt. If anyone had asked him about ghosts a few minutes ago, he would have scoffed at the idea. But the evidence was stacked on the side of ghosts, so he'd let it slide for now. "Alright, but eventually I want answers."

Dave nodded, giving a small smile. "Promise."

* * *

It was a long day of organizing the house, trying to get his room to look the way he wanted it. Also there was helping Finn figure out what he had put in his boxes. Needless to say, Kurt saw too much useless pieces of crap for one lifetime, let alone in one room, and it left him feeling drained. Kurt was ready to call it a day and go to sleep. It would be better to try to finish the rest in the morning.

He pulled his favorite pair of pajamas - a blue silk set - from his dresser, preparing for bed. Maybe it was a little silly, but he liked the texture of them on his skin, and they made him feel like a young man from the 50's. He began to strip, carefully putting his dirty clothes in the hamper when he felt a cool breeze on his neck.

Frowning, he looked over to the window to realize it wasn't open. Then it hit him; he realized that it must be Dave.

"Dave?" called Kurt. He looked over his shoulder, and there was Dave sitting at his desk.

"Yeah?" answered Dave.

Kurt self-consciously pulled his pajama shirt on, saying, "is there a reason why you're in here while I'm getting dressed?"

"Uh," Dave started, "because you're a guy?"

"That doesn't mean that it's okay to be in here while I'm getting dressed!"

"Dude, chill, we're both guys."

"Don't tell me to chill, and stop sounding like Finn!" said Kurt, annoyed.

Dave shrugged, twiddling his thumbs. "Sorry. I just don't see what the big deal is."

"It's just…" said Kurt. "I've never shared a room before, especially with a boy. There was that failed attempt with Finn a few months ago, and that did not go well at all."

"I'm not Finn," pointed out Dave. "I don't care about this stuff; I've spent years in the locker room with half naked guys running around. It doesn't faze me."

"Space issues," said Kurt, "and having problems in the locker room never helped me. That, and my body isn't that great; it's all chubby and pale…"

"What are you talking about?" said Dave, incredulous. "So you don't have a tan, that's a good thing. First, you'd look really creepy with an Oompa Loompa tan, and then you're saving yourself from skin cancer.

"And from what I see, there's no chub on your body, except maybe on those adorable cheeks of yours," said Dave with a grin. Kurt blushed, not sure what cheeks he was referring to. Looking down to see he was only wearing his boxer briefs, he had an idea of which ones. "And I know chub," said Dave, poking his own belly.

"Now you're just being silly," grumbled Kurt, sliding on the pajama pants. "There's a difference between chub and muscle, and I'm pretty sure the majority of your body is muscle."  
"Aha!" said Dave. "See? The same can be said for you, so it's not chub."

Kurt raised his eyebrow at Dave, and said, "Are you happy to win?"

"Yes," said Dave smugly. "I like winning."

"Congratulations," Kurt said dryly. He moved over this bed, pulling down the maroon covers. After settling into the sheets, he laid down and sighed contentedly.

"Hey Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"You do realize that despite the fact I just met you, you're pretty awesome?"

Kurt turned over onto his side, looking at Dave with a confused look. "Thank you?"

"I just think that you should know that. I didn't want you to go around tomorrow without knowing the obvious," said Dave with a grin.

Kurt rolled his eyes, turning back over. He turned off his lamp on the nightstand, and settled back onto his pillow. "Goodnight Dave."

"Goodnight Kurt."


	2. Chapter 2

"So how did you get here?" asked Kurt. He was idly flipping through Teen Vogue before bed as Dave was watching whatever game Kurt had flipped to. He guessed that the taller boy was a jock from the jacket, and was proved right when he saw Dave's eyes glued to the screen.

"I'm guessing you mean dead?" Dave asked.

"Yes, that would be the main focus." Kurt looked up from the magazine to see Dave drumming his fingers.

"It was about five years ago, right before the big game. I had a scholarship; this was going to clinch it all together. When the scout saw me, he contacted me the next day, 'cause he knew I was good. Just one more game cleaning the ice and I would have had it." Dave looked over at Kurt's confused face.

"Hockey. I was going to get a hockey scholarship to Ohio State." Kurt nodded his head, understanding. "But a few days before, there was an accident, a big one. The other guy wasn't paying attention. He turned out okay. But me? Two days in the hospital and then I was gone."

The room was silent for a minute before Dave chuckled. He shook his head at Kurt's raised eyebrow. "It made me realize, shouldn't I be haunting the hospital? But then again, I don't think the patients would appreciate that."

Kurt smiled and said, "I'm sure. What would you do, go running through walls screaming bloody murder?"

"There is a fun point to doing it, but I'm sure that would get boring eventually. Not to mention, what would be fun about old people shaking their canes at you? Or screaming children?"

"That's true, but I still think that it would be hilarious the first twenty times," said Dave. He stopped for a moment, pondering. "Actually, scratch the kids. They'd sound like banshees."  
Kurt shook his head. "You're a goof."

"Ahh, but I'm a cute goof!" gloated Dave. "So that makes it okay."

"Humble, aren't you?" Kurt said.

"I try."

They both chuckled over being so silly, but Kurt sobered quickly.

"Can you tell me how it happened?"

Dave stopped, losing his smile. "What do you mean?"

"The whole story."

"…I don't want to talk about it right now," said Dave quietly.

"Oh," said Kurt, surprised. "That's fine, that's completely fine. So! Do you want to play a game of Hangman? I think I would love to play a game of Hangman."

Dave looked up at Kurt's abrupt enthusiasm over a game, appreciating his effort to change the subject. "Sure, I'd love to."

* * *

Kurt began trying to understand how Dave worked in their house, and all the odd things about the teenage ghost living in his room. Why couldn't Dave be seen by other people in the house? How could touch just about everything in his room, but not Kurt himself. He'd seen Dave reach out to slap him on the arm in joke, but all he felt was a cold chill. What made everything so different?

And also, why were there no other ghosts around? It seemed odd that he hadn't seen any others, and the fact that the rest of the family couldn't see Dave either. What made him different than the rest of his family?

Finally, he wondered how Dave really died. Dave wasn't willing to divulge the details, and he wasn't sure if they were even near close enough for him to broach the subject again. He would have to wait, and hope that Dave brought it up himself.

Kurt was mulling over this as he got home from school that day, and by the time he got to his room, Dave was reading some books that Kurt checked out of the library for him, leisurely flipping a page by blowing on it gently.

"Why are you blowing on the pages when I know you could just turn them?" asked Kurt.

"Because it's fun," said Dave. "Also, it takes so much more energy for me to actually touch the book. Might as well do it this way."

"It seems odd, you being able to touch all these things, but not humans," mused Kurt.

Dave swung around in his chair, shrugging. "Not really. A chair and a book are inanimate, they aren't living. Humans and animals have a living force unlike plants and other things, there's something special about them."

"So you can't touch a single human?"

"Nope, not a one. I tried once," said Dave. "I tried to touch my mom when I first died, but all she did was shiver and shut the window. Haven't tried since then, and usually people walk right through me."

Kurt's first instinct was to reach out and touch him, to try to make Dave feel better, but he stopped himself. No matter what he tried, he and Dave could never touch, and he hadn't realized how much that disappointed him until then.

Continuing on his previous train of thought, he asked, "Why can't the rest of my family see you? And why haven't I see any other ghosts before?"

"As for the first question, I dunno," said Dave. "Maybe it's a quota—only one person per household can see the ex-tenants of the house?" Dave joked. Kurt shot him a glare, causing him to turn a bit more serious. "I honestly have no idea. No one before you has seen me, but the only other people to live here before you guys were an annoying couple with a crying baby, who probably would think they hallucinated me after what little sleep they got. And before that was my family…" Dave trailed off, stuck in his thoughts.

Pushing away his ideas on why Kurt could see him, Dave shrugged. "As for other ghosts? I haven't ventured too much out of this house, but I think I saw one in that greasy diner down the road. And let me tell you, the way he was looking at me, I wasn't willing to go over and talk to him, alive or dead. I haven't seen anyone else except him. Probably because even in death, no one would want to stick around here."

"I suppose that's true," conceded Kurt. "It just seems a little weird."

"And talking to a ghost isn't?" asked Dave.

"Now you're just being annoying," said Kurt, resisting the urge to scowl. He knew he was still young, but he did dare add to the possibility of wrinkles.

"Sure, sure, whatever. Now why don't you be a good boy and do your homework?"

"Okay mother," muttered Kurt. He sat down at his desk and pulled out his math homework, grumbling over the paper while he mustered the will to finish the problems.

Dave sat there silently, pondering over what Kurt asked. Why _was_Kurt the only one to see him? It did seem a little weird that no one else had. Was it because Kurt was special in some way? But special how, in general, or just to him?

He honestly didn't know, but staring at the back of the live young man sitting across the room, he was just happy Kurt could see and talk to him. It had been getting lonely all by himself, he'd been hoping for a nice family to come along so that he could at least listen to their conversations and feel like he belonged just a little bit.

Maybe that's why Kurt could see him—so he could feel like he belonged just a little bit in this crazy messed up place. If that's what it was, Dave wasn't going to take it for granted. He was going to enjoy every minute he could.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you ever miss being alive?" Dave was looking at Kurt's collection of ties, wondering if there was any color that wasn't there, so the question caught him off guard.

"Uh," he started before shutting his mouth. "I mean, I guess, yeah. It's hard to change the channel on the TV without your help."

"I've seen you change the TV channel before."

"Yeah, but that takes effort. If you're here, that means I don't have to," stated Dave.

Kurt sent him a withering look, and Dave shrugged. He knew he was being evasive, but he didn't really want to think about the implications. Did he wish he could just move on? Would he change things so he could be alive again?

Dave wasn't sure to, be honest. It was nice to think his life would have gotten better, or to imagine himself going to college, but he couldn't exactly change things. He looked around the room that was once his, and he wondered if he had any regrets. Kurt filled his time, making him forget his troubled thoughts.

It wasn't like he didn't think about his family, or that he didn't miss them. But to even try to find them or make contact wouldn't be fair to his parents. It didn't help that for whatever reason, he couldn't appear in front of them. When he first realized he died, he tried to get their attention by talking to them, even walking through them a few times in hopes they would be able to notice him, but all he got were shivers.

After his death, he watched how they suffered. How they found his suicide note after the car accident, the many days they never spoke a word, the nights his mother would curl up on his old bed and sob as she held his baby blanket he knew she had painstakingly knitted by hand when she was pregnant.

In a way, it was a relief when they finally decided to move. No longer would he have to resist resting a hand on his father's shoulder or try to kiss his mother's cheek. They could finally move on, and Dave could try too.

* * *

It was still odd coming home, knowing that there was a boy hanging out there. Kurt was accustomed to making friends with girls because they didn't care if he was considered effeminate—usually they liked him more for it. He was still getting used to Finn and his bizarre habits; he wasn't sure if they were because he was a sloppy teenage boy or if it was just a Finn thing. Kurt was still getting used to even having Finn in the house, and he knew Finn was still afraid to hurt his feelings and get in trouble with his dad. But adding his new "roommate" on top of Finn left Kurt disoriented.

Having Dave around all the time was a little weird. He never had any guy friends that slept over (to be honest, up until a year ago, he didn't even have a guy friend), so sharing his room with the jock was an entirely new experience. Just as Kurt was walking into his room, he opened the door to find Dave jamming on an invisible instrument; bizarre wailing noises coming from him that Kurt guessed were meant to emulate an electric guitar.

Kurt stood there a moment before calling out, "Dave?" The ex-football player didn't seem to hear him and continued to air-strum like crazy. "Dave!" he yelled.

Dave looked behind, lifting one of Kurt's ear buds out of his ear. "Yeah?" he asked.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked, incredulous.

"Uh, rocking out?" answered Dave.

Kurt closed the door, wondering to himself if it was safe for his eyes to be rolling for the tenth time that day. "And how am I supposed to explain the noise to my dad? I didn't stay home from school today; I can't say it was a ghost." He set his book bag down on his desk and sat down on his bed, strumming his fingers to the beat coming out of Dave's earphones.

"Nah, you know your dad blocks out noise really well if he's watching something, especially that show with the father and son bike builders. He never even came up to see." Dave slammed his air drumsticks in a crescendo of imaginary drum beats, and it made Kurt chuckle.

"You are so like Finn, it's a little scary," said Kurt.

"Hey, why are you throwing insults so early in the day? I thought those were left for the new episode of Project Runway tonight."

"It's not early in the day if the school day is already over, and I think I can throw around a few before then," said Kurt dryly, looking at Dave as he continued to jam to what Kurt eventually recognized as Duran Duran. "At least you have good taste in music."

Dave grinned, making an air guitar riff. "Thanks, I could say the same for you, since this is your music."

Kurt smiled back and said, "Well, that was a given." Mulling over Dave's words, he had an idea - something to make Dave feel more at home. Kurt looked down, pretending to fasten a button on his Alexander McQueen asymmetrical sweater and said, "Y'know, if you have any music you'd like, I can put it on there. If that's what you'd like."

Dave paused his solo invisible band playing, surprised at the invite. "Uh, thanks Kurt. I'll keep that in mind."

"No problem," replied Kurt. He eyed his phone, noting that it was probably about time to start his homework if he wanted to watch Project Runway like Dave said. Maybe it wasn't so odd having someone cohabitating his room. It wasn't so quiet, so alone with Dave around, goofing off. In actuality, Kurt kind of liked it.

But he wasn't going to tell Dave that.

* * *

Dave was starting to enjoy hanging around Kurt. Maybe it was silly to think of himself as a roommate, but it was nice to feel like a part of the living again. He figured if he was going to hang around, he might as well enjoy it.

It got to a point where he thought Kurt forgot he was even dead. He'd absentmindedly ask for him to pass over a stapler or the remote, forgetting that Dave couldn't touch him. They got over that, though: Dave started throwing the objects, and Kurt learned to work on his hand-eye coordination.

Even when he was alive, he didn't feel as close to anyone like he did with Kurt. He loved his parents, but he hadn't been able to tell them everything like most teenagers. And his friends never knew much about him, let alone all about who he really was and the parts of himself that he was afraid to share.

So what made Kurt so special? He was a great guy, and kind and hilarious when he wanted to be. He was handsome, if in a fragile way, yet so strong at a second glance. And then there was the way his eyes glinted—

_Okay, clearly this is more than a friendly observation, _Dave thought. He was the typical not-so-alive teenage boy; he knew that Kurt was probably one of the most gorgeous people he ever met. But this was more than that, it wasn't just about looks. Did he like Kurt? Definitely. More than friends? Dave thought for a moment before a quick affirmation. It made more sense, why he felt so attached to Kurt, wanting to be around him all the time. He never felt this strongly about anyone before, not even the small crushes he harbored for the Berrys after they had stopped by his father's accounting business and bought him the neon green bandana he was trying to convince his father to buy for him. This wasn't just a case of puppy love, this felt like a big, new and crazy feeling that was trying to eat him up inside.

Then he sighed, looking over at Kurt's pinboard full of family photos and friends. He saw how people draped their arms around Kurt's shoulders, tousling his hair to a well-honed death glare. They were all able to act on their feelings of affection toward him, even if they were platonic. He couldn't, because no matter how many times Kurt forgot that Dave was dead, it didn't change their situation.

There was no way for them to be together. This wasn't like some Disney movie where everything turned out okay. This was real life - well, sort of. He would just have to accept that things were never going to change between him and Kurt, and enjoy his friendship for as long as it lasted.

* * *

Maybe it was because he was upset, or perhaps he wanted to get back at Puck for his comments. Either way, his trip to Dalton ended up with puffy eyes and a number from a cute boy in his cell phone.

As he sat on his bed, Kurt stared at his phone, debating on how needy it would look to text a few hours after he just met Blaine. Just when he was about to put down his phone, he felt a gust of cool air blow on his back. He shivered, looking behind to his wall where Dave's head stuck out.  
"Is there a reason why you're snooping on me?" asked Kurt snidely.

"Is there a reason why you've been staring at your phone for half an hour?" countered Dave.  
Kurt sputtered, putting down his phone. "I was not!"

"Yes you were. You've been staring since 3:05—it's now 3:36—so it's really been thirty-one minutes, sorry," Dave said with a smug look.

"Hush you, this is kind of important," huffed Kurt, looking back at his phone. "I… met someone today."

"Who?" asked Dave.

Kurt played with his phone, feeling his face heat up. "I met a boy when I skipped school, and he was sweet and kind. We talked, and he gave me his number so that we could keep in touch. And he's gay…" sighed Kurt happily.

"So?" said Dave with an unimpressed look.

"So," said Kurt, "he's the first other gay boy I've met."

"Not really," said Dave. "I'm gay."

Kurt looked up from his phone, shocked at what had come out of the other boy's mouth. "What?"

"I said I'm gay, so he's not the first gay boy you've met," said Dave nonchalantly.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" asked Kurt accusingly.

Dave shrugged. "It never came up. I didn't think it was that important."

"Well, I think it is," Kurt said in a clipped tone.

"Why?"

"It would be nice to actually talk about guys with someone who can understand, someone who gets all the problems of living in Lima, which is probably the most homophobic town in the region." Kurt sighed and looked up to see Dave's guilty face. "I don't hate you or anything, but it would have been nice to know that I could come to you about these kinds of things."

"Well, from now on you can," said Dave. "What kinds of things?"

Kurt ducked his head back down and mumbled, "How to talk to a boy without sounding creepy."

"Well you don't sound creepy right now. At least, not too much," said Dave with a grin.

"But you're Dave, a friend!"

"So? This guy is a friend too, treat him like you would me, except that you can actually slap him for saying something raunchy."

"I doubt he'd say anything like that; Blaine is a gentleman."

"Blaine, is it? Sounds very pompous indeed," teased Dave. "But at least it isn't Kirby."

"Ugh, who would name a child that?" asked Kurt.

"No idea, but if you want to talk to this guy, text him. Phones haven't quite figured out telepathic pleas yet." Dave got up and went over the door.

"Where are you going?"

Dave shrugged. "Figured I'd wander the house for a bit, let you get the courage to call."

"Oh," said Kurt. "Thank you, by the way—for listening."

Dave smiled and said, "No problem." Dave left the room, his smile dropping off his face. Kurt had met someone, someone who was sweet and a gentleman. Someone who wasn't him.

It was ridiculous to even think that Kurt would see him like that. He was a goofy jock who haunted his room all day. For God's sake, he was _dead_. _I can't even touch him, let alone kiss him_, thought Dave sadly.

"It's better that he finds someone with a pulse," muttered Dave, sitting in the empty kitchen chair across from Burt and Carol.

"Did you notice how happy Kurt looked today when he came home?" asked Carol. "I haven't seen him that happy since we first moved in and we let him decorate."

_Great,_ thought Dave. _Blaine gives him the same euphoria as a set of drapes._

"I noticed that, too," said Burt gruffly. "He's been so down when he comes from school, but he's better after an hour of being home. I'm not sure why though."

Dave smiled at that, feeling a small glow of pride at giving Kurt some happiness. _I guess that's all I could ask for_, thought Dave. _And if it makes him happy, it's worth it._


	4. Chapter 4

Today was the best day in his life, perhaps for the rest of his life. Kurt couldn't help but give an inner squeal as he got out of his car and walked into the house. When his dad saw him, he stared for a minute, but Kurt didn't care right now. He would tell his parents later.

Kurt ran up the stairs, giddy at what had just happened. He quickly threw all of his school supplies onto the floor and flopped on the bed with a huge leap. When he landed on his bed, he couldn't help but kick his heels like a school girl.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Dave, eyeing his roommate's crazy antics. He'd seen Kurt get freakishly overzealous over the craziest things before, but he had never seen him this ecstatic to wear his shoes on the bed—unless they were Prada, then it was somehow alright. But he was very confused why Kurt was little rolling around on his bed as if he just won the lottery.

"He kissed me!" yelled out Kurt excitedly. "He gave the best speech and then he kissed me and he asked to be my boyfriend and I said yes!"

Dave's stomach, or whatever his ghostly equivalent was, turned unpleasantly at the news. "Oh… That's great!" said Dave with fake enthusiasm.

"Isn't it?" said Kurt. He rolled over to his side to look at Dave, a humongous grin on his face.  
It hurt him to see Kurt so happy over another boy, but he couldn't hold a grudge when Blaine had made such a toothy grin emerge from the self-conscious boy. "Yeah," replied Dave. "It is."

Kurt blissfully was ignorant to Dave's subdued answer and continued to chatter on about the event. Dave wasn't really listening until he heard, "I can't believe I have my very first boyfriend."

"Oh," said Dave, "yeah, congrats man. You're the first one out of the two of us to get a boyfriend, so yeah, congrats."

"Huh, you're right," said Kurt. He calmed down a little, his smile going from a thousand megawatts to a still radiant grin. "But that doesn't matter so much. So," began Kurt, "what have you been doing?"

"Oh, this and that, the usual," said Dave, waving his hands about.

"Oh come on, I know that you've been doing something all day," said Kurt.

"Yeah, but I don't think I can top that news! I mean, I beat your record on Halo," drawled Dave. "Again."

"Hey!" Kurt said with mock anger. "That was not my best score, that was a test run."

"A test run that left you dead after fifteen seconds," Dave teased.

"Which is why I only play this game against Finn when he's depressed, because I know he'll win." Kurt paused for a moment, a look of reflection on his face. "What am I going to tell Finn when he sees all those high scores? He'll know they're not me."

Dave shrugged. "You can delete those, I'll show you later."

"Thanks. So."

"So?"

"Play a game of Scrabble with me?"

"Only if you promise not to use 'dolce' or 'gabbana' again, because I swear those are not words!"

Kurt huffed and said, "they are too words, you just wouldn't know them because they are above you."

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Smartypants, now get over here so I can beat you and reclaim my crown as Scrabble Master."

"You wish, uncultured behemoth."

* * *

Sitting on Blaine's bed, shoulder to shoulder, felt so easy. Their legs dangled back and forth, tangling together from time to time. There was just something so peaceful about Blaine's room, unusually formal, that made it feel like they could sit in there forever just enjoying their time together.

It was their little routine to go to Blaine's house and chat on his bed, even before they were boyfriends. Lying on the bed next to Blaine's warm body felt nice in the way having someone next to you always did, but it left Kurt wondering.

Kurt knew he was lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend, one that knew him so well even though they'd known each other for five months. They had the same interests, they worked well together singing and dancing like it was fate. So why did he feel a state of contentment without any spark or electricity thrumming through his body when they were alone?

"Kurt?" He looked up from their shared Vogue magazine to see Blaine's concerned face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "I'm just thinking."

"Ah," Blaine hummed. "What about?"

"Just," Kurt began, "does this all seem too easy, too idealistic?"

"Does what?"

"This—our relationship. It was so easy to go from friends to boyfriends, which is good, don't get me wrong… But do you ever feel interested… sexually?"

"Yeah," said Blaine. "You're hot, so that's kind of a 'duh' question."

"I mean past knowing we're both attractive. I like kissing you, and holding your hand, but… Nothing more than that."

Kurt felt Blaine's hand on the small of his back, rubbing soothing circles. "And that's okay," reassured Blaine. "So you're not ready to go past that point, that's completely fine."

"I feel like we're already like an old married couple, that we skipped something vital."

"Hey," said Blaine, and Kurt looked over to him. "It's okay, there's nothing wrong with what we have. As long as we care for each other, right?"

Kurt smiled, nuzzling closer to Blaine. "Right."

* * *

Despite his conversation with Blaine, he still felt there was something off about their relationship. There was nothing wrong—they were great together, they made each other better, there was no denying that.

So why did it feel like he was with the wrong person? Kurt laughed sardonically to himself, thinking it was rich to think that. 'Who else in Lima is even gay and alive?' wondered Kurt.

Kurt stopped for a moment. Why did he add the alive part? That seemed like a given, to be in a relationship with someone. It made it kind of difficult to love and be loved when one of them was dead… Yet it made him think of Dave.

'Dave,' realized Kurt. 'Dave is who I keep thinking about.' It washed over him, all the times he felt so happy being with Dave, even when they were doing something completely ridiculous as playing a game of Hangman.

He tried relating this to how he felt about Blaine. There was definitely friendship there, and they both cared for each other. The same could be said about Dave. They had been friends for over half a year now, ever since he had been living in the new Hummel-Hudson house, and they had told each other so many things they'd admitted to not telling anyone else. Maybe the last part was different for Blaine, but the basis of friendship was the same.

But it felt like something was missing, as if a part of him wasn't into the relationship as much as he should be. Perhaps that was the part of him that was taken by Dave, he realized.  
But what could he even do about that? Dave was dead, that was for sure. They could talk, play video games together, sing together. But they could never touch. Even when they lay next to each other on the bed, there was no chance of real intimacy when all Kurt would feel was a rush of cold air.

It seemed so unfair for Dave to be so real in almost every way but the one that Kurt craved. He didn't realized how much he took touch for granted; his father's pats, Carol's hugs, Finn's loathed hair tousles. When he tried to imagine his life without them, it seemed almost devastating. He wondered if that's how Dave felt sometimes.

But touch shouldn't be the most important thing. He clearly liked Dave, and it wasn't just for his cute little smirk, although that was very adorable. They had come to known each other so well through just talking and hanging out together, that it could be considered a relationship.  
The only question was how would he approach this with Dave?


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt knew it was better to respect Dave and not go looking for articles about him, but it was getting hard to resist. Sometimes he would stare at his iPhone, debating if he should do a Google search, when Dave would pop back into the room, shocking him.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Dave to tell him eventually, but not knowing was killing him. What was so horrible about his death that he still lingered in this world, unable to move on?

Clearly it was something, because Dave wouldn't talk about it, and would shut down whenever he referenced it. If Kurt didn't know better, he would almost guess that he committed suicide.

But that didn't seem like Dave; he was a pretty cheerful person, considering he was dead. It was just hard to imagine Dave having thoughts about trying to kill himself. It seemed so foreign from the Dave he knew so well.

No, it probably wasn't that. It couldn't be, could it?

'But what else could it be?' wondered Kurt. He was staring at his computer for what felt like the hundredth time, fighting himself on searching Dave's name. It felt like such an invasion of privacy, almost like reading a diary.

"I guess I should leave it alone," muttered Kurt. He closed the Google tab, leaving open a page of a fashion blog.

"Leave what alone?" asked Dave, his head popping through the wall.

Kurt's hand flew to his heart, and for a moment, he swore he might have felt his heart hit his rib cage. "What the hell, Dave!" cried out Kurt. "I thought we talked about you popping through the wall!

"Oops," said Dave, deadpan. "Sorry."

"Uh huh, sure," said Kurt, glaring. "Now stop that and get in here; your head stuck in the wall reminds me of those animal plaques."

Dave grinned, walking into the room properly. "So sorry to make you squeamish. Hey, do you wanna watch a movie?"

"Depends, what kind of movie?"

Dave thought for a moment, and said, "Princess Bride? You can't say no to that, it's basically a wittier, better version of a chick flick."

Kurt shook his head, his lips turned up in mirth. "I suppose you're right there, and there's also fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles..." quoted Kurt.

"And I'll try to stay awake," teased Dave.

"Okay, I think that's enough quoting even before the movie," said Kurt, getting up from the computer. "You pop in the movie, and I'm going to go grab a snack." By the time Kurt was back, the menu was looping, ready to go. They got comfy on the bed, Kurt taking his favored right side of the bed as Dave took the left.

The light from the window was dim as they watched Westley and Buttercup roll down the hill, Kurt's eyes drooping slightly. Kurt vaguely heard the dialogue, and he felt himself waken just a little.

'_I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me_?' asked Westley from the television screen.

'_Well... you were dead_,' answered Buttercup matter-of-factly.

'_Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while_,' uttered Westley.

Kurt drifted to sleep to Buttercup swearing never to doubt again, and Westley reassuring her that she would need not worry for the rest of her life.

'If only that could be said for me…' was Kurt's last thought before falling completely to sleep.

* * *

A groan came from the comforter where Kurt lay on top of his textbooks. Dave looked over, smirking. "So what are you working on now, O Wise One?"

"Stupid math," Kurt grumbled. He turned over and groaned again. "Just, math is good for architects, engineers, mathematical careers. But I have plans to be on Broadway, set design, fashion! Do any of those things have math to them?"

"Well," Dave said, "there's figuring out the dimensions to a prop, how much fabric you need to make a thousand dresses, estimating how many people need to get sick before you end up with the lead role in a show, stuff like that."

"But that stuff makes sense!" huffed Kurt. "Not this ridiculous mumbo-jumbo."

Dave peered down at the textbook, looking at the questions. "These aren't that bad."

Kurt raised his head slowly, glaring. "What?"

"I was doing this math my junior year, I could help." Dave then grinned. "Unless you'd like me to leave you alone to figure it out yourself…"

"No, no, that's quite alright," said Kurt hastily. "Do carry on."

"Someone changed their tune pretty quick," teased Dave. "But I will help you, out of the goodness of my heart."

"Yeah, you're a saint; now help me with this so I can finish it before Project Runway comes on!" Kurt motioned towards his homework hurriedly, and Dave laughed, scooting closer to Kurt on the bed.

"As you wish, TV junkie." Dave finally sat next to Kurt, their shoulders almost touching, and Kurt felt a slight breeze waft over his skin as he settled into his spot, the air shifting. It was odd, how natural this position felt with Dave, despite how the bed didn't dip like it did when he lay next to Rachel or Mercedes.

It wasn't mind-wracking, lying next to Dave like he did when he stood next to Blaine. Everything was calm and easy, like Dave had always been in his life. Kurt let his mind wander for a moment before Dave coaxed him into working on another problem. Yes, this felt natural, like they could be like this it for the rest of his life. Kurt wondered if that would even be possible.

* * *

It was a typical Thursday night for Kurt Hummel, sitting at his desk finishing his homework as he chatted with his resident ghost on the very oddball topic of Valentine's day. He wasn't even sure how they came to talk about the romantic holiday, except maybe since it was a few months away. Either way, he could tell that Dave felt very strongly about this.

"I just don't see the appeal of Valentine's day," said Dave. "Why is there only one day of celebrating a relationship while the rest of the 364 days of the year are spent squandering respect for your partner?"

"365 days on a leap year," added Kurt while he wrote another sentence for his Lit paper. "But I never took you for a philosophical man of romance." Kurt looked up to send Dave a playful smirk. "One would think you had been hiding your brain before this."

"I'm a man full of surprises," said Dave, making a mocking gesture at preening.  
"Oh, that I don't doubt. But I figure that Valentine's Day isn't a day to make up for all the screw ups, it's like an anniversary. It's marking a place in your relationship where you can be grateful for your better half."

"I guess so," Dave said, mulling over the theory. "So it'd still be classy to do something like 'when the last object in this bouquet dies, that's when I stop loving you,' and then stick a dildo right in the middle?"

Kurt sputtered, pulling away from the desk to look at Dave, flabbergasted. "What kind of a mind comes up with something that obscene?"

"Mine, apparently," said Dave with a grin.

"Yes, an odd little screwball like you," muttered Kurt as he turned back to his homework.  
Dave shrugged, getting up from his chair to walk to the desk. He leaned over to look Kurt in the eyes, leaning an elbow on the desk.

"You've probably heard worse."

"Yes, from you."

"What about Puck? You've said out of all Ohio, he probably has the dirtiest mouth and filthiest thoughts."

Kurt paused for a moment in consideration. "Well. You've got me there."

Dave laughed, his breath cool on Kurt's face. Sometimes it was odd how alive Dave could appear; his body, the wind that gusted whenever he moved or breathed. It was so hard to imagine Dave dead, rotting somewhere in a casket when he seemed so alive right in front of him.

"Hey, you still in there?" asked Dave.

Kurt started at the interruption of his mind's wandering. "I was still recovering from that terrible joke, actually. Really Dave, that was just disgusting."

"Awwww, poor little Kurtie. Did I break your brain? Just don't hurt yourself; you need that noggin for another sixty years at least."

"Har har," said Kurt with sarcasm. "Thank you for that. Now why don't you let me finish this paper? It's due in two days and I want to make it perfect."

"As you wish, master," said Dave dryly.

Kurt's breath hitched at Dave's words, remembering the movie they watched just a few days ago. Maybe it was silly to think of Westley's words as Dave's admittance to… something. To possible affection, even maybe love? No, that wasn't possible that he would feel that way. Dave saw him as a roommate, a buddy to talk to and tell his troubles, or at least as much as he was willing to let on about his life. It was just a silly crush that he had on Dave, something that would go away with time. It wasn't like he could ever act on his feelings; that was apparent ever since the first time Dave walked right through him.

It hurt, knowing that they could never touch like Kurt desired. He wanted to connect with Dave. Not just on a mental and emotional level, but a physical one. He never realized just how much he could crave the touch of someone else before, and it scared him a little. He didn't feel this way about Blaine, but he did for Dave, the one person that he couldn't get close to. He didn't hope to die anytime soon, but he still had the overwhelming urge to be close to Dave. But to gain that intimacy, the cost would be his life, and that was something he wasn't willing to give up.

Without a way to touch each other, Kurt didn't see any hope for a solution to their problems. And he would just have to deal with it. 'Maybe someday,' thought Kurt.


	6. Chapter 6

"How did you die?" This was the question that Dave had been dreading. More than anything, he wanted Kurt to believe the lie he had been telling himself for the past few years - that it was a car accident, not a suicide.

Dave sat on the bed, Kurt sitting beside him, waiting expectantly for the truth.

"It was my last year of high school, senior year. All that 'we'll never forget each other' crap was going on," started Dave. "It was such a joke. I was just so ready to get out of there and go to college. All I could think about was finally being able to date, get laid, whatever I wanted to do, because I'd be out of this rinky-dinky town and none of it would bother anybody.

"Then I was approached by a guy, Rick. He was a year younger than me, but we had a few classes together because he was advanced. He came up to me one day and said that he knew I was gay, and I swear my heart stopped." Dave's eyes crinkled in amusement at the memory. "I had so many thoughts running through my head at that moment, I think I had started an elaborate plan to somehow bribe him with a blow job and high tail it to New York or Kentucky, I hadn't picked which yet.

"He just wanted a kiss," explained Dave. "He was gay too; he had been watching me, figured it out by how much I ogled guys I guess." Dave chuckled for a second, remembering the bittersweet moment. "He wanted to have one genuine kiss with a guy before high school was over, and I agreed, because I wanted it so much as well. Not some meaningless peck from a girl, but a guy, y'know?" Dave's voice cracked at the last part, startling him. Who knew even in death a voice could crack?

Dave didn't dare look up to see Kurt's expression. He knew it would be pity, and he just couldn't deal with looking at that, and continued to tell his story, eyes staring at the recently vacuumed carpet. "It turned out kissing under the bleachers was kinda cliché. Some of the guys on the football team found us, kicked us around a bit. They swore to tell the whole school."

"Dave…" started Kurt. "You don't need to say anymore, if you don't want to."

"No, no, it's fine," said Dave. "Therapeutic, or whatever. Anyways, after several weeks of being bullied, through Facebook, school, and all, it got to be really hard. It got so bad, I was getting into fights all the time. My mom had ice packs stocked up in the fridge, waiting for me when I got home. She knew something was up, and she tried to ask me about it, but I blew her off, said it was just extra hard training before the big game."

Kurt took a moment to process the information. He'd been bullied by his peers, even roughened up a bit, but it shook him to his core to imagine just how much pain Dave went through not only emotionally, but physically. He'd been shoved into lockers and dumpsters, but fights? That never happened, thanks to Finn's occasional threats to the rest of the football team.

It just seemed so odd, Dave being so much bigger than himself, that they would even dare try to mess with the large jock. But then it occurred to him; the people beating Dave up were football players, hockey players—his friends.

Dave continued. "Then one day, I came to school and things were quiet for once, almost peaceful. It took only a few minutes to figure out why—Rick committed suicide the night before. All that time I was getting bullied, so was he. I hadn't even talked to him, other than to pat him on the back after a slugging and say 'just one more year, right?'" Sucking in a deep breath, Dave felt a heaving sob in his chest, and cried, "God, I was so stupid. If I had just realized what he was going through too…"

"You couldn't have known. You were going through so much at that time too, it's not like you were sitting idly by, watching this kid get harassed," reasoned Kurt.

"It still doesn't make it right."

Kurt moved out his hand to rest it on Dave's shoulder, only to stop a few inches from him. It was times like this where he desperately wished he could touch Dave, to hug him, or even to slap some sense into him, anything. But all he could do was try to reason with him.

"Dave, look at me." Dave looked up, and Kurt could see tears staining his cheeks, running down the sides of his nose, and he marveled a little. He had never seen Dave this open, to the point of crying. "You can't change what happened to Rick, there are no 'what ifs' or 'maybes.' You stuck your neck out for him, even if it was in small ways. Clearly you were getting into all of the fights, and if you hadn't, maybe they would have assaulted him instead."

"That's still no excuse," muttered Dave.

"Maybe not for you, but it's not your fault and it never will be. Do you hear me? As long as I'm around, I'm telling you it's not your fault. And when I say something, it's the truth."

Dave smiled, bemused. "Always the truth, huh? I guess I'll just have to listen to you then." Dave sniffed, his nose a little stuffy from the crying. "Ugh, this is so stupid. I shouldn't have to need a tissue."

Kurt reached over to his nightstand and pulled a tissue out of the box, holding it in front of Dave's face. "I'm not sure if it'll help you, but it's the thought that counts?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah, I guess so," mused Dave. They sat there quietly for a minute, drinking in the whole episode. Finally, Dave said "Thank you. For listening."

Kurt smiled, and said "For you, anytime."

* * *

-  
It wasn't long after his talk to Dave that Blaine started to notice how off Kurt was. He wasn't being as attentive as he used to be, and Blaine had felt problems arise ever since their conversation about intimacy a while ago. He noticed that whenever he called Kurt to make a date, he would already have plans with Rachel, Mercedes, Tina. It hadn't happened at the beginning of their relationship, but had picked up over the last few months, and it was worrying Blaine a little.

So finally, he decided to confront Kurt with the problem.

"Hey Kurt?" called Blaine. "Could you come here for a second?"

"Sure, just let me put that one belt over there…" said Kurt from inside Blaine's closet.

Blaine had asked Kurt over to help him organize, a task he knew that would most definitely bring Kurt over quickly. Blaine was glad his idea worked, because before that Kurt was saying he was going out hang out with Finn—he didn't even know that Kurt made so many plans with his brother, as it seemed they led entirely separate lives. He was just happy his closet could still snag his boyfriend, which as he thought about it, was rather sad.

"So what's up?" asked Kurt, sitting on the edge of the bed with Blaine.

"I wanted to make sure that things were alright with you—with us," clarified Blaine. "You've been distant lately; did I do something wrong?"

"No!" said Kurt quickly. "No, no, it's me, I promise. It's just…"

"It's just what?" asked Blaine, curious.

Kurt sighed, leaning his head down. "It's complicated."

Blaine tilted his head, a little confused. "What's complicated about it?"

"I've been trying to bring this up for a while now," started Kurt. He felt a moment of dread, but pushed through it. "I just think we've lost the magic, or at least, I have. This relationship is more a friendship than anything else."

Blaine sat there a moment, confused. "But isn't that a good thing?" Blaine asked.

"Most definitely," assured Kurt. "But when I'm with you, I'm happy like I am with Rachel, with my dad and Carol. It's not a romantic love. It's just…"

"…You've fallen out of love with me," Blaine realized, a hint of sadness in his voice. Kurt felt an overwhelming amount of guilt in his stomach, and he knew if he looked up, he would see Blaine's eyes getting misty with tears.

Kurt sighed, looking up from the carpet into Blaine's sad eyes. "Yes." Afraid to look at the hurt look on Blaine's face, he pulled him into a hug, desperate to somehow console the damage he was creating. "It's nothing you could have stopped; I've been dealing with this for the past few weeks, trying to come up with a way to tell you." Rubbing circles into the fabric of Blaine's sweater vest, he said, "I am so so sorry for this."

Blaine sighed, cuddling his head into the crook of Kurt's shoulder. "It's not your fault, you can't help your feelings, just like I still love you, and that will never change." Kurt's breath hitched, feeling even more guilt weigh down on him.

"I'm so sorry," whispered Kurt."

Blaine lifted his head, and tilted Kurt's chin up. "Hey." Kurt avoided looking into Blaine's eyes, afraid that the second he did, he would start crying just out of pure guilt. "Look at me." It took all of his strength to look up and not feel as if he just kicked a pile of puppies. "You realize that I'll always love you, right? And you'll love me, even if it's not in the way I want. We're going to be best friends forever."

Kurt laughed brokenly, choking back a sob. "The dorkiest of best friends."

"You bet your bippie," said Blaine, a big grin on his face despite his watery eyes.

"Bippie? Really Blaine?" asked Kurt.

"You know I had to say it. If only to make you smile."

"So when did this turn from me consoling you to you taking care of me?" Kurt asked.

"The second I realized this was probably going to hurt you more than me," said Blaine. "I mean, yeah, I'm still upset, but it's not like you're leaving me forever. You'll still be here to be my friend, organize my closet… Unfortunately we're not going to keep the benefits?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, we're going to be strictly friends."

"Pity that, thank god for masturbation."

"Blaine!"

"What? You know it's true."

"Maybe for you, you big perv," teased Kurt.

"Uh huh, sure," said Blaine. "Now why don't you help me with the rest of my closet? I wasn't kidding when I said I still had some clothes from middle school in there."

"Alright, you don't have to tell me twice!" Kurt got up to continue throwing away old ragged jeans from Blaine's closet, when he turned around. "We'll be okay, right?"

Blaine smiled, shaking his head fondly. "Of course, silly. We've made it through this much, why not this? Also, I'll just hold your last Vogue magazine for ransom just in case."

"It's a deal," said Kurt, grinning. "Now help me with this box back here, and let's get to work!"


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt happily opened the door to his room, a wide grin on his face. Flicking the volume of the TV down, Dave looked up from his crossword puzzle, noting the huge smile on the other boy's face.  
"What's up with the face? Did the school explode?"

"No," started Kurt, "but I asked Blaine to go to the prom with me and he said yes!"

"Oh," said Dave. "Why do you want to go to prom?"

"Because it's a part of the teenage experience?" Kurt walked over to his closet, and pulled out a sparkly pink suit. Wrinkling his nose, he pulled it out to show Dave. "Too flashy?"

"Just a little," said Dave, eyeing the sequins. "Anyways, what's so great about it? You don't think it'll be dangerous to go to prom with a guy?"

"It shouldn't be, as there will be chaperones, and besides, why would it matter to anyone? They'll all be having too much fun to mess with me and Blaine," argued Kurt. He pulled out another item, and his eyes lit up. "Close your eyes, I'm going to try something on."

"I thought we discussed I don't need to close my eyes—"

"Hush, it's for a surprise, now close them!"

Dave complied, closing his eyes, then hearing the rustling of clothes. "I just think it might not be safe for you guys to go, considering the jerks at school."

"And I said I don't agree." Dave would have rolled his eyes if they were open. They conversed back and forth for half an hour, Dave twiddling his thumbs while he listened to the game on television.

"You do realize that no matter what you say, I'm going to prom, right?"

Dave sighed, his eyes still closed. Kurt had ordered him to do so since he started working on his project, which he assumed was his prom outfit. Dave had listened—well, sort of, he looked out of the corner of his eye to catch the touchdown on the TV. "Yes, I realized that because you are as stubborn as your dad, who mastered the art from a bull."

"I would smack you if I could," grumbled Kurt, fussing with the cuff of his suit. "You're lucky for that, comparing me to beef."

"Well," Dave drawled, "If you want to get into the nitty gritty details of human flesh versus a cow's—"

"No- no, no, no, that's alright! Anyways, I'm pretty much done; you can open your eyes."  
Dave opened his eyes with a huge grin, ready to gross Kurt out, only to change his mind. Dave knew that he must look like a gaping fish then, but he was a bit too preoccupied with Kurt and his outfit, and completely stunned. "That's… Wow, Kurt."

"You like it?" Kurt spun, causing the kilt to swirl around his bare legs. "I haven't found the proper leggings to go with the outfit yet, but this is what I have so far." Dave's eyes lingered on Kurt's strong calves for a moment before looking up to the tuxedo jacket.

"It's really cool, Kurt." Dave stood up, walking over to stand in front of Kurt. He looked down into Kurt's eyes and smiled. "Very you."

Kurt dimly thought that Dave had thick eyelashes, making his eyes stand out with their golden brown hue. He felt as if he were being sucked into Dave's presence, and moved closer. But a blast of cool air woke him up, and he moved away again. Kurt fidgeted, plucking at a loose thread. "Thank you Dave. I should probably take this off to work on it."

"Uh, yeah, sure," replied Dave. "Mind if we switch the channel to college basketball? I have to know who wins."

Kurt laughed, amused. "Sure, Dave." Kurt walked over to the TV and switched to the roaring crowd after a slam dunk. "My dad thinks I'm going crazy, watching sports. I just tell him I'm trying to understand when Finn and Blaine talk."

"Still dating Blaine then?" Dave's voice was gruff, almost sulking and petulant.

"Yes," lied Kurt quickly, "I am, hence why I'm going to prom. Do you really think I would go alone with all of those couples?" Kurt pinned a cuff, and looked over at Dave with a smirk. "Otherwise, it would be pretty depressing."

"I thought Kurt Hummel was fabulous enough to do anything?" teased Dave, wiggling his eyebrows.

"We both know that, but what's the fun if there's no one to share the fabulous with?" Kurt posed, tilting his neck in mock arrogance.

"Right, right, how could I forget Mr. Fabulous? That's why I'm here, clearly."

Kurt stuck out his tongue, feeling giddy enough to be childish. "Yes, clearly."

Setting down the kilt on his bed, he looked down at the beginning of his outfit, pondering what else he should do. Feeling eyes on him, he tilted his head up to see Dave looking at him, concerned.

"Just promise me you'll be safe, okay?"

Kurt smiled assuredly at Dave, and said, "I promise."

* * *

The night had finally arrived, and Kurt was so excited to have one of his high school dreams come to life. He wasn't exactly going with the man of his dreams, but he loved Blaine in a different way. Getting to spend this evening with him would still be wonderful, and he couldn't have asked for a more courteous person to go to the dance with him. As they took photos by the fireplace and Blaine's hand fell delicately on his waist, he felt like the night couldn't go wrong.

"Dad, you don't have to stay up, Finn and I can let ourselves in tonight!" said Kurt. Kurt felt his arm getting stiff after standing in the same pose for the past half an hour, taking prom photos much to the delight of Rachel, and the dismay of the rest of the prom-goers.

"If you say so, but don't blame me if you forget your keys," teased Burt. "Now one last photo of all of you and we'll release you." The last flash lit up the mantle.

"Finally!" exclaimed Finn. He pulled on Rachel's hand, dragging her toward the front door. "Let's get out of here before they take any more."

"Wouldn't be worst thing in the world, we didn't get to my behind-the-shoulder look!" said Rachel indignantly.

Blaine and Kurt looked at each other and rolled their eyes, grinning. "Same old Rachel," said Kurt.

"Well, this is a special night," argued Blaine. He took Kurt's hand and gazed up into his eyes. "A special night I get to spend with you."

Kurt smiled, and said, "Oh, you're cheesy, but I like you too much. Let's enjoy tonight, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," said Blaine with a smile.

Kurt smiled back, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Thinking about his prom, he wished that Dave could be a physical person for one day. It reminded him of Casper - the last movie he'd watched with Dave. The way he whispered "can I keep you?" after their one and only dance together had been haunting Kurt's dreams ever since.

But unlike Casper, there was no supernatural fairy godmother there to make his prom night be what he wanted it to be, to give him that one dance with Dave, if only to hold him for a few minutes.

For now, he would enjoy his junior prom to the fullest, with one of the best friends he could have ever asked for. The night was going to still be amazing, a night he would always remember.

* * *

When Kurt got home that night, Dave saw a very downtrodden young man walk into his room. Eyeing the crown and scepter, Dave asked "What, did you steal the Prom Queen's crown?"

"I was the Prom Queen," Kurt said softly. He walked over to the bed and promptly flopped on it. After a moment, he yelled into the comforter.

Dave went over, and sat on the bed. "What happened?"

Kurt turned over, his cheeks wet. "McKinley thought it would be funny for the gay kid to add another tiara to his collection."

"So they haven't changed, I see," muttered Dave.

"Not much." Kurt looked up at Dave from his comforter, and Dave had never seen his eyes so blue before. "Why are people so cruel?"

Dave sighed. "Who knows. Probably because they think their life sucks so everyone should be like them. Rude of them, if you ask me."

Kurt chuckled. "Yes, rude of them to rain on my parade."

They sat there in silence for a while, just enjoying the company.

"Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you sing for me? Anything really, I feel like Mr. Schuester who believes every problem can be fixed with a song."

Dave licked his lips, an instinct he had whenever he was nervous. "Alright. But don't laugh if I'm bad, okay?"

"I promise."

Dave let out a sigh, trying to think of what to sing. But at the moment, there was only one song he could remember. He was going to slow it down, but it could work. "Child, don't you worry," he began, his voice cracking just a bit. He coughed and continued. "It's enough you're growing up in such a hurry. Brings you down, the news they sell you, to put in your mind that all mankind is a failure."

Dave looked at Kurt, who was gazing up at him from his curled up position under the covers. He smiled and sang, "But nobody knows what's gonna happen tomorrow—we try not to show how frightened we are." He winked at Kurt, his pale face poking out of the covers, causing Dave to imagine a much younger Kurt listening to his mother sing. Even Kurt's eyes began to close sleepily like a young child as he rubbed the back of his hand to his eyes. "If you let me, I'll protect you, however I can." Kurt smiled, rubbing a tear from his face before snuggling a little closer to Dave's thigh.

"You've got to believe," Dave sang quietly, "it'll be alright in the end." He skipped to the end, realizing his audience's eyes were completely shut.

"We've got to believe it'll be alright my friend—so don't let go," Dave crooned, concluding, "Unless we believe it'll be alright again."

By the time he was done singing, Kurt was asleep, clutching the scepter. Dave gazed at the reddened cheeks and felt such anger that those kids would do this to Kurt. But at least Kurt was stronger than he was. With that thought, he flicked off the light and quietly lay next to him on the bed.


	8. Chapter 8

"So buddy, what's been up with you?" asked Burt over Saturday morning breakfast. He said this through a mouthful of bacon and eggs, and Kurt wrinkled his nose at Burt picking up bad Finn habits. He allowed his dad to have one greasy breakfast a week, and Burt usually picked Saturday because it gave him something to look forward to.

"Depends on what you're talking about," replied Kurt as he spread some lowfat cream cheese on a pumpernickel bagel.

"Did the dance go well?" asked Burt.

Kurt sighed, and took a sip of his coffee. "As good as could be considering I was crowned Prom Queen."

"What?" asked Burt incredulously.

"It was a joke, a terrible one at that," murmured Kurt. "But I got through it, made a joke of my own and danced the rest of the night with Blaine."

"I can't believe they would do that," Burt grumbled. "Well, actually I could. You'd think one of those visits to that school would stick, but I guess not." Burt fumed for a moment before asking, "Who was Prom King?"

"Some hockey player with a mullet. He declined the dance with me, and I would have never touched someone with that much Axe on their body."

"Mullets? Those back again?"

"Ugh, no. Even if you had a full head of hair, I would forbid it."

"Yes, we'd both have to conspire to shave your head at night," teased Carol as she came into the kitchen in her bathrobe. She pecked Burt on the lips and said, "Good morning honey."

"Hey hun," said Burt with a grin.

"So are you doing anything today?" asked Carole.

"Not much, just some homework. I'll let you two love birds be alone until Finn rises from the dead," said Kurt, picking up his cup of coffee.

He quietly walked past Finn's room, even if he wouldn't wake easily. He got back to his room, closing the door with his foot, and he sat down on his chair to nurse his cup in both hands, enjoying the warmth and scent that wafted from the mug.

"Don't get too enraptured by the mug, otherwise it might think you want a commitment," teased Dave.

"Can you actually marry coffee?" mused Kurt. "I mean, that guy married a pillow in Japan, why can't I marry this coffee?"

"By the time you get to the courthouse to fill out paperwork, your beau will already be drunk and digested, making you a black widow," Dave said. Kurt looked over to see that Dave had flicked on the TV to some reality show about dancing kids and their crazy moms . Clearly there wasn't a game to watch.

"But would I get custody of the children? Because then I could grind them up and have even more coffee…" rambled Kurt as he continued to breath in his warm drink.

"Okay, you clearly have not fully woken up because that's a little weird," said Dave grinned, moving in front of Kurt's face. "Either that or I'm rubbing off on you." Dave wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Please do not make a literal 'rubbing off' joke, I've heard that multiple times from Puck."

Dave grinned, "Hey, you said it, not me."

"I'm going to ignore you now. Mmmm, coffee," Kurt said in-between gulps.

"You can't ignore me for forever, y'know," Dave said, blowing onto Kurt's face, much to Kurt's distaste.

"You're disgusting. Now what do you want?"

"So do you have any plans for the day?" asked Dave.

"Other than to avoid anyone who went to prom last night? Nope."

Dave grinned, beckoning Kurt forward. "Well then, come and try to beat my high score on Halo, I dare you to even try."

Kurt looked up from his coffee with a glint in his eye, saying, "Oh, it's on."

* * *

Kurt had been trying to broach the subject for some time now, not entirely sure how to tell Dave that he officially ended things with Blaine a while ago, or why. It seemed almost callous to explain both at once, but at this point he was going insane with Dave teasing him about his "boyfriend," even though they were now only friends again.

He was reading a trivial magazine, one of those silly Cosmo sex tips articles that left Kurt a little flustered. He moved onto the next page, and his eyes were glued to the page. Emblazoned in red was the title "Drop, Kick and Grab!: How to Move on to Your Next Beau."

The whole article itself was ridiculous, he was sure, but now he was already on the mindset of how to tell Dave. Should he try to be nonchalant? Blunt? Kurt bit his lip before mentally berating himself on ruining the facial he just finished. 'This is ridiculous,' thought Kurt. 'Just get it over with and be done with it. Quit being such a baby.'

He looked up quickly to see that Dave was also reading something, though he looked bored. "So," said Kurt as casually as he could. He continued to look down at the glossy magazine pages, flipping them nervously. "I broke up with Blaine a while ago."

Dave looked up from his own sports magazine, incredulous. "What?"

"We broke up. Mutually. A while ago. It was time for us to see different people."

"Oh," said Dave. "Well, that's… Great, I guess, that you're going for who you really want? I'm not sure who there is around here, unless that blonde boy from Glee club came out. It's the blonde one that you told me about, right? The one with the crazy big lips?"

Kurt sighed, "No, it's not Sam."

Dave paused for a moment, thinking. "Puck? I'm sure he would come around to it, sex seems to be almost a second language for that guy."

"No," said Kurt quickly. "No, not him. Blaine and I are the only gay kids at school other than Brittany and Santana. We just don't mesh like we used to, and we decided to be friends."

"Then okay, you're having a cooling off period with Blaine? That's cool, you guys can always work it out," Dave assured, not sure what to say next.

"Do I have to say it?"

"Say what?"

"That Blaine is clearly not the guy for me, not when I want you."

There was a moment of silence, Kurt nervously staring at Dave for a reaction. Dave's face went from shock to confusion, and finally to a resigned sadness.

"You do realize that this is never going to work, right?"

Kurt scoffed, annoyed that Dave hadn't even addressed Kurt's confession by itself. "Well, why not?"

"There's that whole factor of I'm dead and you're not. Or it could just be that I'm a Gemini and you're a Libra, whatever."

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you." said Kurt indignantly.

Dave scoffed. "And what kind of life would that be, always in the shadow of a ghost?" He looked at Kurt somberly, but still firm in his opinion. "That's no life for you."

"But that's what I want! And no one tells me what or what not to do with my life, David Karofsky," Kurt fumed. Who did Dave think he was, to try and tell him what to do? These were his feelings, and he was the one in charge of his life, not Dave.

"You clearly don't understand how hard it is to live this kind of life," said Dave, waving Kurt off. Kurt couldn't understand how much it would kill him to watch Kurt keep getting older while he still stayed the senior high school student. "I'm telling you now, it's not a good idea, it will never be a good idea, and it's best that you forget it."

"How could I forget it, forget what I could possibly have with you? This isn't some stupid crush, Dave!" Kurt said desperately. He was not going to give up on this, even if he had to argue with Dave for years to come. He would _make _him see it his way.

"Even when they clearly know what's best for you?" snarled Dave.

"Even then," Kurt gritted through his teeth. "You can't change my mind."

"Then I see no choice," Dave said with finality. "Goodbye, Kurt."

"What…" started Kurt, anger fading into confusion. Dave began to fade physically, his jacket-clad body turning transparent. "What are you doing?" cried Kurt. He lunged forward, desperately hoping to keep Dave tangible, but he only caught air.

"Dave!"

"I'm sorry Kurt," Dave said, his voice tinny. "It's for the best. It was bound to happen sooner or later anyways..."

"So what, you were just going to leave one day?" asked Kurt accusingly.

"If it meant that you could live your life, yes. Being with me won't help you," said Dave, his voice fading away even more.

"I'll always love every second," said Dave, his smile hard to see now that he was barely in the room. Kurt saw him flicker, and he began to panic. He reached forward that by some last hope, he would be able to touch Dave, to bring him back. All he reached was air, and Dave vanished, his spirit completely gone.

"No," murmured Kurt. "This isn't funny Dave, get back here right now! Dave?" Kurt sank to the ground, only barely registering that his math textbook was digging into his knee. He felt his eyes start to water, stinging with tears he was trying to hold back.

"Oh Dave," sobbed Kurt. "I'll never forget you."


	9. Chapter 9

Hey guys, it's the last little bit! To see the art done by Moushka on LJ, you can either go to her LJ page, or go read this on my LJ account. I can try and attempt a link in here if you want to see just that:

HTTP : (slash)(slash) photo bucket .com(slash)albums(slash)ee472(slash)moushkas(slash)The%20Ghost%20and%20Mr%20Hummel(slash)

* * *

Kurt Anderson-Hummel lived a long life, full of New York, his husband and children. He settled down with Blaine a few years after Dave left for good, Blaine always knowing there was an old flame that kindled in his heart. Kurt had been upfront about it, and Blaine accepted this, happy to take what he could give.

They lived a wonderful life together, enjoying each other's companionship and sharing a love that became platonic, but still strong in affection. Blaine helped fill a part of the void in Kurt, but it was never full. But it was plugged enough with years of laughter and devotion to be happy.

Burt and Carol never moved out of Lima, something that always comforted him when he wondered where Dave was. When they died, they left the house to Kurt. Finn had expressed no desire to own it himself, now that his family was situated in California. Kurt held onto the house, and when Blaine died, he moved there.

Friends begged him not to go, but he packed up what little furniture and knick knacks he cared for and moved back into the house where he'd spent his final years as a teenager. All their children were grown, living their lives, and Kurt was content to live there alone.

One night, Kurt was dozing when he suddenly woke up feeling different. He no longer felt the tremors of his recently arthritic hands, or the pains in his back. He felt new, spry, young. Kurt got up from the bed and stood next to the nightstand, peering at his smooth hands, just like they looked back in high school. He looked back to the bed, seeing his older body lying calmly on the bed, and he realized he was now dead.

He didn't feel sadness, he didn't feel regret; he felt contentment and peace.

He turned away from the bed, and walked over to the door idly wondering if he could open the door or just walk through it.

"You should know by now that you could walk through; I could do it." Kurt stopped, completely focused on the voice.

"Dave?" He turned around, and there he was, just as he remembered him. He still wore that stupid varsity jacket that somehow worked for Dave; there were still the soft short curls that Kurt had always admired, and the smile that etched itself into his dreams.

"Did you have any other ghosts visit you in your teenage years that I didn't know about?" asked Dave wryly.

"You smart aleck, get over here," said Kurt fiercely. He moved forward as Dave reach for him as well, finally experiencing what he dreamed about for years.

When Dave pulled him into a hug, it shocked Kurt to his core. _I can touch him now_. With that thought, Kurt pulled back slowly to look him in the eyes.

"Happy to see me?" Dave grinned, looking into Kurt's shimmering grey blue eyes.

"You have no idea," Kurt said. He clutched gently at the curls on Dave's neck curling his fingers through them. He pulled Dave forward him into the kiss he'd been waiting more than half his life for.

It was different, finally getting to touch Dave as if he were flesh and bone. He could feel Dave's slight stubble, and it made it more electric. Dave's lips were everything he dreamt about and more, and Kurt didn't want to ever let this go again. When they broke apart, Kurt pulled back and exhaled happily. "I've wanted to do that for 60 years. I'm so happy right now."

Dave took his hand, leading him out the door and to the stairway. "Me too." Kurt didn't care to take in the details of the house, despite somehow knowing he would never be in this house again. It wasn't the house itself that made him happy, it was the man he met within it. Now that they were side by side, nothing else mattered to Kurt. They walked to the front of the house, and Dave opened the door. "And now we get to spend the rest of eternity together. You ready?"

Kurt smiled, squeezing his hand. "Always."


End file.
